


if you fall, i'll pick you up

by GKingOfFez



Category: Star Wars: Rebels
Genre: Character Study, Extended Scene, Gen, Near Death Experiences, Star Wars Rebels: Steps Into Shadow
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-28
Updated: 2017-03-28
Packaged: 2018-10-11 23:59:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,282
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10477527
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GKingOfFez/pseuds/GKingOfFez
Summary: Reklam Station is falling from the sky, writhing in its final death throes, and it’s taking Ezra Bridger with it.Another character study/scene rewrite/coda, this time to S3E01 Steps Into Shadow.





	

_And if you call, I will answer_

**_And if you fall, I’ll pick you up_ **

_And if you court this disaster_

_I’ll point you **home**._

\- Barenaked Ladies, _Call and Answer_

* * *

 

Reklam Station is falling from the sky, writhing in its final death throes, and it’s taking Ezra Bridger with it.

The wind is blowing hard around Ezra as he falls, his clothes billow and flap against his skin as he plummets through layers of cloud and smoke. He is cold, wet, and terrified, but still forcing his eyes to stay open despite the stinging wind, scanning around for an escape, a chance, a miracle, _anything;_ but all he can see is hopelessness and burning debris casting an orange hue on the world around him.

“Karabast, karabast, _karabast_!” he yells, trying to hear his own voice above the whooshing in his ears.

_This is all so wrong, it shouldn’t have gone this way. The Holocron was supposed to make me **strong** , invincible, so why is everything **literally** falling apart?_

A small part of Ezra’s brain knows there’s almost no use holding on to the station as it falls. It wouldn’t matter in the end whether he clung on as tight as he could, or let go and free fell, the result would be the same either way- death, either by being caught in the fireball of the station going up in the lightning storm, or from hitting the planet’s surface that was quickly rushing to meet him at terminal velocity.

His comm unit had broken, the _Phantom_ was destroyed, and as communication had cut off before he’d had time to tell Sabine what had happened, none of his friends even knew he was still on the station. It was official: Ezra Bridger was going to die, here at this place, in this moment. So it was no surprise that he was scrambling for every last shred of hope he could reach; even if it was just the tangible sensation of clinging to a wall like it could somehow save him.

_Karabast, why didn’t I think it through before cutting the power?_ he feels like screaming to the uncaring wind.

The fall, and the heart-pounding, hope-destroying _anticipation_ of death at any second stretches Ezra’s time out to an agonising crawl, and he finds himself with time to think.

One of the clearer threads of thought in his racing mind is that he never, ever thought he’d die like this. There’d been people on the streets of Lothal who whispered between themselves that Ezra would never make it to sixteen years old if he kept living on scraps and dodging angry Stormtroopers. Ezra himself had once thought he’d never make it off Lothal, and _yet_ he had proceeded to exceed everyone’s expectations, including his own.  He was a _Jedi apprentice_ , a rebel, a Lieutenant Commander, who’d beaten the odds and every impossible situation that had been thrown at him, all while being hunted down by Inquisitors and Darth Vader himself. Somehow, he _survived_ every time.

_Except this time, apparently._

It was almost insulting that after all Ezra had done, that _this_ mission, _this_ impossible situation- falling planet-ward, clinging on for dear life like a drowning loth-rat and _no one_ coming to his rescue- would be the one to finally kill him.

He had made it past sixteen, but not by much. What would his parents think about that? He couldn’t bear to imagine what they would say..

“Those Starfighters better be worth it,” he hisses through his teeth, half-angrily, half-terrified. He’d watched the ships flying away skyward in two lines with a surge of elation, and by now Zeb, Sabine Rex and Chopper had no doubt bested the Empire in orbit, and were probably half-way back to base. At least, he sincerely hoped they were. It would suck to no end if Ezra was dying for nothing, even more so if he’d led his friends to their deaths as well.

How would they feel when they landed and found that Ezra hadn’t followed them, that he’d never meet them at _Chopper Base_ like he’d promised? That thought sent a spike of regret through his chest; he’d really let them, Hera _and_ the rebellion down. Were a couple of old Y-Wings really worth the trade for how useful he was as a Jedi?

He _desperately_ hopes so. Otherwise, his death would mean nothing at all, and that was a scary thought.

Ezra’s feelings turn somewhat inevitably to lament, with a hint of bitterness. _Maybe,_ if he’d been truthful with Hera on her check-up, _Phoenix Squadron_ could have sent in backup. Maybe, if he hadn’t have been so quick to cut power to the station, he could have come up with a more foolproof escape plan. Maybe if he’d been quicker, stronger, more _powerful_ , had listened more closely to the Sith Holocron-

Oh, but now all he can think about is _Kanan_ , and it wrenches at his heart so badly he has to choke back a sob.

The last time they’d spoken was when Kanan had confiscated the Holocron, and Ezra had felt _so mad_ it had overwhelmed all his senses and set a fire in his chest. But now he regrets everything- he regrets with the heat of a thousand suns not talking to Kanan more since Malachor; he regrets not seeking his master out, not simply telling him he still had the Holocron in the first place; not trying harder to mend the bridge between them that had been damaged in the wake of Ezra’s mistakes. Kanan was blind because Ezra had been stupid and _naïve_ enough to trust Maul, and now instead of words of love or even an apology, the last words Kanan would ever hear from him were cruel and hurtful.

**_Just like I don’t need you._ **

But if this whole mission had proved anything, it was that Ezra _did_ need Kanan.

Zeb had been right, Kanan would have _loved_ to be here with them. Kana would have been in his element; the plan constantly changing? Check. New, unexpected dangers flying in from all directions? Check. A countdown timer ticking down? Double check.

Kriff, Kanan probably would have come up with an even better one-liner for the demoted Imperial officer Ezra had encountered. _Kanan_ would have done it all better, and they would have saved _more_ ships and everyone would have safely escaped safely on the Phantom, if he’d been here with them. Ezra was sure of it.

He tries again to choke back his emotion, blinking away the threat of tears. He can almost hear Kanan’s low, familiar voice in his mind, trying to soothe him.

_Ezra, I’m here,_ Kanan whispers, distant like he’s underwater, and Ezra almost feels like it should be a comfort.

But Ezra’s not that stupid: Kanan _isn’t here,_ not like he should have been. He’d never see Kanan, or Hera, Sabine, Zeb, Rex or even _Chopper_ ever again. This time, it was _his_ turn to be the one abandoning the people he loved, not the other way around.

Ezra clutches tighter to the metal wall and screws his eyes against the wind’s cruel touch. His face is completely numb with cold by now, and he knows that if he were to give up and start crying his tears would probably roll right off his face and be caught in the updraft, like a Force- _damned_ kid’s holo-cartoon.

A shadow falls upon him. He doesn’t bother to turn and look, thinking it must just be a large piece of debris shaken loose from the whole.

Instead, he desperately wishes that he was back aboard the _Ghost_ right now.

_The smell of fresh paint and warm space-waffles in the air as they all sit in the common room, Zeb arguing animatedly with Chopper, Kanan and Hera with their arms wrapped around each other on the couch, Sabine stretched out on the floor sketching out her next project on a holopad._

He thinks also about the picture of his parents Sabine had found for him, and imagines he can feel their warm arms around him as he continues to fall, shielding him from the wind and the world like they did when he was young.

He would give anything, _anything_ to see _any_ of them again one last time, to hear his mother’s laughter, watch Sabine as she painted another bright orange iteration of her phoenix, to hear Kanan calling him for Jedi training…

_“Ezra!”_ a voice cries.

It’s then he hears it- the low thrumming of an engine straining itself above the rushing of the wind. He shoots his eyes open.

“I’m right here!” the voice yells again, and Ezra turns to it.

He recognises Kanan in a split-second- _Kanan_ , face in shadow and silhouetted by a background of bright artificial light, one hand hanging onto the sideways doorframe of the Ghosts airlock, and the other reaching out in Ezra’s direction. Ezra’s entire brain _screams_ in relief and confusion.

“Kanan?” he calls back, not quite believing his eyes.

(But _how_ could Kanan be here now, like a miracle, at the last possible second? Is he hallucinating? Is the sudden change in pressure as he falls through the atmosphere making him go crazy?

Something, perhaps the Force, tells him that _yes_ , Kanan really is here, he really had come to _save him_ , despite everything Ezra had done wrong.)

Instinctively, Ezra reaches out for his master, but the distance between their fingertips immediately overwhelms him.

 “I can’t reach you,” he cries. His other hand slips its grip, and he withdraws to clutch again at the wall. “It’s too far,” he yells, mostly to himself. But that doesn’t stop him, and still he tries again- because now he has wonderful, _terrible_ , tangible _hope_ to cling on to as well.

He reaches out, loses grip once again and this time lets the wind pick his body up, and he strategically flips himself 180 degrees to be directly parallel to Kanan before clutching again at the wal. The blood in his Ezra’s ears pounds and rushes downwards, but he ignores everything except _Kanan_ , who had _come for him;_ Kanan, who is _so close,_ just a couple of feet away.

As his eyes adjust to the light, Ezra sees the familiar walls and floor of the _Ghost_ behind his master, that corridor that he had memorised as much as the rest of the ship beckons him, and his heart suddenly _aches_ for home. It could only be Hera at the helm, pulling such as dangerous manoeuvre beside falling wreckage. He sees Kanan’s lightsaber bobbing up and down in the wind where it hangs from his master’s belt.

It’s all there waiting for him, open arms ready to wrap themselves around him, except- _Kanan is blind_. Ezra’s heart drops down to his toes. Kanan _couldn’t_ see where Ezra was, so how would he catch him? What happens if Ezra screws up the jump? What happens if he overshoots? There was no way Kanan would know where he was to grab him, especially as the cacophony of screaming wind and burning metal would make it impossible to use his hearing.

Ezra can only hesitate, doubt tearing at his resolve. It somehow seemed so much worse to come _so close_ to being saved, to going _home_ and then have it all ripped away again. Maybe it would have been better if Kanan and Hera hadn’t come for him at all.

As if he sensed Ezra’s trepidation, Kanan called out again. “It’s okay, _I’ve got you_ , go ahead,” Kanan says, with his own note of desperation. Ezra cannot help but think back to Malachor- him holding tight onto the Holocron as Darth Vader tried to rip it away, Kanan with two hands gripped tight around his arm and screaming _“I’ve got you!”_

Kanan had him then, and instinct was reassuring Ezra that the same would happen now, _if_ he just opened himself to the Force and trusted his Master’s guidance.

“Let _go_ ,” Kanan insists, and suddenly Ezra isn’t falling, the wind isn’t tearing at his clothes and hair; instead, he’s fourteen years old again, standing in the middle of a field on Lothal with TIE-fighters bearing down on him and being asked by a stranger to jump into a strange ship.

If he’d trusted Kanan enough to take a leap of faith back then, there should be no doubt at all what he should do right now. He _had_ to trust Kanan now, because Kanan had _always_ been there to catch him.

Ezra took a breath and closed his eyes, steeling himself and calming the thumping of his heart. This was his only chance, and all he needed was to be brave enough to take it. He reached out to his Master with every bit of strength but- _it wasn’t good enough._ The wind caught him again while he was unbalanced, and suddenly he was upside down, and been carried far too high above the airlock door.

No, no, _no, **no**_!

He tried again to reach for Kanan’s hand- _it was so close-_ but succeeded only in flailing about and grabbing at air. This was wrong, _all wrong_. Karabast, _karabast_!

He’s failed- Kanan is still looking to the place where Ezra had just been before, and Ezra’s fears were confirmed. _Kanan didn’t know where he was_ , and in a second, the updraft would rocket Ezra well out of his reach. With the station so close to the planet’s surface there would be no time at all for another attempt. This realisation hits Ezra harder than a blaster bolt; he is _truly_ going to die here, and it tears him apart to feel the hope that Kanan’s hand had offered die in his heart.

There’s no point, no hope. He starts to pull back, and in the split-second he has left, there are so many things he wants to scream at Kanan- _go, get out of here, there’s no time, leave me, I’m sorry, please forgive me, I should have tried harder-_

But _suddenly_ , Kanan turns and reaches up, grabbing at Ezra’s arm not a second before it would have been beyond his reach. Kanan’s grip is vice like and shocking, and Ezra watches him twist to brace himself against the doorframe and anchor them both to the _Ghost_.

The wind buffets and tears at Ezra, hoping to snatch him up once again as Kanan strains to pull him inside. Ezra is twice convinced that they aren’t going to make it, and briefly thinks that his shoulder is about to be dislocated- but after a drawn out moment, Kanan throws his arm around Ezra’s shoulders and pulls with all his might, and they both fall to the solid floor of the ship face first.

_I’m alive, we’re alive,_ is all he can think as the door hisses shut behind them, cutting off the sound of the wind..

“ _I’m alive_ ,” he says out loud, sucking in the biggest breath he’s ever breathed. The _relief_ and pure, unadulterated _exhilaration_ he feels as he grips at the wall/floor under him floods through his entire body.

“Got him!” yells Kanan beside him.

The _Ghost_ responds almost immediately, twisting around them as it veers off from its nosedive to level out.

Unfortunately for Ezra, this sudden turn sends him sliding down the wall to land face-first once again on the corridor’s _actual_ floor as the anti-gravs enabled themselves. Despite being still numb with cold, his face stings when it came into contact with the metal grating. It hurts even more a second later when Kanan crashes down on top of him, pushing all the air out of his lungs.

Kanan is the first to recover, and he rolls off and is on his knees in one fluid move.

“ _Ezra_ , I’m sorry, are you alright? Are you injured? Talk to me, buddy,” asks Kanan, fretful and fatherly .

“ _Ugh_ ,” Ezra moans, still overwhelmingly happy to be alive.

He feels Kanan’s hands wandering across his head, back and arms, poking, prodding and probably searching for broken bones or cuts. Ezra lets him do this for a couple of seconds before he pushes himself up onto his forearms, groaning. He scrubs a hand down his face and recoils- his gloves are damp with, so are his clothes and boots. He feels cold to the bone, the muscles in his arms are aching from trying to hold on to Reklam station as it fell and can feel the familiar sensation of bruises forming on his legs, back and cheek. The adrenaline is starting to die down, his heart is steadily moving back to a normal rhythm and his teeth are beginning to chatter, but other than all of that-

“I’m fine, Kanan. I’m _alive_ ,” he replies, repeating that last bit like he can’t quite believe it, and mostly to himself.

Kanan chuckles. “Yes, you keep saying that. Are you _sure_ you didn’t hit your head, though?”

Ezra laughs perhaps a bit too loudly, and then moves to sit up on his haunches as well. Kanan’s hands are on his shoulders in a second to give him support and grip him tight.

Ezra makes himself look right into the eyes Sabine had painted on Kanan’s mask, and feels a swell of emotion rising in his chest. Kanan just smiles at him, his mouth crinkled, and Ezra imagined that if he could see Kanan’s eyes in that moment ( _whole_ and that bluey-greeney colour as he remembered them in his dreams) they would be sparkling with amusement and relief.

“You-you _came_ for me,” Ezra whispers with a soft, sad awe, gripping at Kanan’s arm in return. He’d still come, even after he’d found out Ezra had been lying to him, even after he’d had flat out told him that he didn’t need him, _Kanan had still come_.

It had been a while since Ezra had feared being abandoned again, but every time his _Ghost_ family made a point to return for him, it bolstered something bright in Ezra’s soul.

Kanan’s smile softened. “Of course I-”

_“Spectre One and Spectre Six, we’re heading for the atmosphere. Better get up here and strap yourselves in, this might be rough!”_ comes Hera’s voice suddenly over the intercom.

Breaking from his train of thought, Ezra can only laugh at the command- just a minute earlier he’d thought he’d never hear Hera’s voice crackling through _Ghost’s_ speakers ever again. He was alive, and he laughed because his only other option was to break down and cry, and that would just be _embarrassing_ for everyone involved.

“I don’t know why you’re laughing,” Kanan says with a smirk, squeezing Ezra’s shoulder before reaching out to grip onto the wall and pull himself to his feet. “I’d get up there quick if I were you, you’re in enough trouble as it is.”

Kanan held out his hand again, and Ezra took it, letting his Master drag him to his feet.

  _Trouble, what-?_   He frowns, and then remembers with a groan what had been forgotten in the rush of the wind and feeling of impending death.

The mission, the _Phantom_ , the fact that he’d disobeyed orders and not told her about it during his check in. Forget the fall, _Hera_ was going to kill him now.

“Oh, _karabast_ ,” he mumbles, rubbing at the back of his neck.

Kanan chuckles again. “Come on, let’s go. There’ll be time to talk back at base, right now we need to escape the Empire.”

Ezra nods, and reaches out for Kanan’s arm. He moves to guide them both out of the airlock and towards the cockpit.

Below, what’s left of Reklam Station hits the planet’s surface with a resounding _boom_ that no one hears.

**Author's Note:**

> Me? Writing, finishing and publishing fics somewhat regularly? What is this, 2011 when I actually had motivation to write fanfiction???? What has this show done to me??????
> 
> So this was inspired by a gifset of the scene where Kanan grabs Ezra from the air in Steps Into Shadow. If you watch closely, you can see that Ezra tries to reach for Kanan, fails, and then gives up hope. He pulls his hand back and his face crumbles, and you also see that when Kanan reaches out and grabs Ezra, he does so at the last possible second. Ezra was literally a millisecond away from being out of reach. The nuances in animation in this show are amazing, 10/10, would over-analyse and cry over again.
> 
> Also, I’m not quite convinced I can pull off first person, but whatever. It’s good for more introspective focuses like this fic, I guess. ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯
> 
> P.S I have about five more WIPs of Rebels fic that aren’t scene rewrites. Ya’ll probably won’t see all five of them bc it’s me, but look forward to see something more from me soon. Hopefully.


End file.
